Flawed Hammock Pummels Hapless Victim, Pride, Lower Back Both Wounded
Waring, TX- Last night, as a result of my contemplative mood and appropriate weather, I retreated to my hammock which is nestled nicely between two oak trees in my backyard here in the beautiful Hill Country hamlet of Waring. From its location, the hammock offers a moonlit place to bask in the peace of it all and gaze at the stars as they twinkle betwixt (betwixt?) the leaves of the oak trees. Nearby are six palm trees that dance and sway in the soft, Texas summer breeze. To top off the novelty of it all, a nice pipe tobacco cigar hit the spot.
It was perfect. As I sat, I pondered Lost Love, The Future, Possibilty and Hope. I thought of good things, great things--things that gave me peace and hope and wrested all unpleasantries from my heart. I watched in the distance as my three new goats settled beneath a tree for a night's sleep. In other words, that spot and that moment are the exact reason I live in a town like Waring. It was, by no exaggeration, perfect.
Then it happened. I heard a very dramatic pop...not as dramatic as a bone fracturing or a cable car cable popping, but equally as surprising. Within a millisecond of the "pop" I felt a certain sensation, as though perhaps I was dropping downward...fast. This turned out to be the actual case. The supporting rope, which I foolishly had not inspected since last summer, had snapped right where the hammock connected to the tree on the end nearest my head. I fell the three feet or so I was off the ground and landed, feet still suspended with a breath-taking whump.
It took several seconds for me to comprehend what had just happened. My stogie still in hand, the smoke still drifting upward toward the moonlight, I simply stayed on the ground. My feet were still awkwardly suspended on the end of the hammock which hadn't fallen. My two dogs stared at me awkwardly. They did not understand what their human was doing...idiot.
The fall hurt. I landed square on my back. Luckily, I did have the foresight to remove the pile of rotting boards and rusty nails from under the hammock last year. (Thank God.) I rolled over and rose to my feet, my innocence and otherwise unsullied evening completely, irreversibly shattered.
And my back itched like crazy.
I went inside and left that hammock still swaying in the Hill Country breeze. Perhaps I will fix it tomorrow.
That's the story of my life...
It was perfect. As I sat, I pondered Lost Love, The Future, Possibilty and Hope. I thought of good things, great things--things that gave me peace and hope and wrested all unpleasantries from my heart. I watched in the distance as my three new goats settled beneath a tree for a night's sleep. In other words, that spot and that moment are the exact reason I live in a town like Waring. It was, by no exaggeration, perfect.
Then it happened. I heard a very dramatic pop...not as dramatic as a bone fracturing or a cable car cable popping, but equally as surprising. Within a millisecond of the "pop" I felt a certain sensation, as though perhaps I was dropping downward...fast. This turned out to be the actual case. The supporting rope, which I foolishly had not inspected since last summer, had snapped right where the hammock connected to the tree on the end nearest my head. I fell the three feet or so I was off the ground and landed, feet still suspended with a breath-taking whump.
It took several seconds for me to comprehend what had just happened. My stogie still in hand, the smoke still drifting upward toward the moonlight, I simply stayed on the ground. My feet were still awkwardly suspended on the end of the hammock which hadn't fallen. My two dogs stared at me awkwardly. They did not understand what their human was doing...idiot.
The fall hurt. I landed square on my back. Luckily, I did have the foresight to remove the pile of rotting boards and rusty nails from under the hammock last year. (Thank God.) I rolled over and rose to my feet, my innocence and otherwise unsullied evening completely, irreversibly shattered.
And my back itched like crazy.
I went inside and left that hammock still swaying in the Hill Country breeze. Perhaps I will fix it tomorrow.
That's the story of my life...
posted by Winston A. Hall at 9:37 AM
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